Mission
by sankekorafi
Summary: A journey through Wufei’s life and an exploration of his motives throughout the series.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Mission 1?

Author: sankekorafi

Summary: A journey through Wufei's life and an exploration of his motives throughout the series. Some events will be directly from the series, others are events that could have happened. It is possible a few completely AU things will happen, but not likely.

Pairings: 5+M For this chapter. Contemplating 2+5 and later 2x5, but no mention here.

Warnings: Split Personality, Madness

Squinting through the thick foliage, the dark haired boy could make out almost nothing in the limitless night. A branch scraped across his cheek brutally as the wind picked up yet again. It left a mark, but the only thing the boy felt was a light touch. Not a caress or a blow. Just a touch. No pain. Just a feeling, a sensation that held no meaning to him at all.

The wind seemed to oppose him. It carried the rain and hail towards his face. But he no longer cared. He was already soaked and cold; water and ice no longer had their full effect.

Really, everything opposed him. But the wind had no reason, needed no reason, for its actions. It was inanimate. Like a building. Like the fortress before him.

Although he had no sight, he could feel the echoes of the building before him. Days, even weeks, of observation had absorbed the picturesque palace turned barracks into his very skull. Closing his eyes, the boy could see it clearly. Could see the balcony he was destined to light upon.

Yes, this was his destiny. His Mission.

Despite what everyone thought, Heero Yuy was nowhere near as dedicated to his missions as he could be. Missions were Yuy's life. They were his blood. But that was not good enough.

Chang Wufei Iwas/I the mission. He had to be the mission. Because if he became Wufei again….

He would be unworthy. Unworthy of love. Unworthy of forgiveness. Unworthy of life.

Unworthy of existence.

And, as though a switch had been turned off in his mind, the rationalizing Wufei was gone. He no longer needed to exist. He was unworthy. With a force stronger than the attempted suicide of his allies, Wufei had wrenched Wufei out of existence. And as he fell, the Mission began.

Movement began. The Mission ran, using all the stealth It could muster. The guards had left this gate empty due to inclement weather. They were stupid.

It scaled the gate, climbed the side of the wall and was on the balcony without a pause to consider the actions. It moved automatically, as though programmed. But then It stopped and scanned the room.

There was the target. A general responsible for so very much. Someone that Wufei had once dueled. But the general had never encountered something like the mission.

General Kushrenada stood only a few feet away from the Mission. The two were separated by a pane of glass and by the great armies of intermingled truth and folly. The man's gold hair shone like gold or pyrite. That hair had reflected light in press meetings across the media and had blinded millions to the true Mission. The public trusted him.

The Mission hated him. He had to be eliminated.

Searching within his clothes, the Mission found familiar weapons. The gun was cold and heavy in Its hand. This was a true instrument of silent justice; it would fulfill its purpose deftly and quietly and then would be left at the scene, no trace of its origins ever to be found. It raised the gun, directing it at the still head before him and put Its gloved hand upon the trigger.

But some force stilled Its hand. This was not an honorable way to fight. Wufei reached within his cloak with his left hand and pulled out a sword. He held the two instruments of death before him and battled in his mind against his Master, the Mission. His memories of destruction and pain were sharp, but his orders were chilling, freezing him to the core. The field of flowers where Meiran had died was covered in snow, then ice, as the Mission's indifference shattered Wufei's resolve. Even the Dragon's flames could not melt the icy pool of blackness that was the core of his heart, and the reptile lay there, dying in the cold wind.

The sword clattered to the ground and the Mission successfully aimed through the window.

At nothing.

"So, Zero-Five, I do hope you mean to continue our duel."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Mission 2?

Author: sankekorafi

Pairings: 2+5?

Warnings: Depression, Mentions of Insanity

A/N: Thanks to everyone who responded! Again, anyone interested in betaing this please e-mail me. Thanks!

… Disclaimer… I own NOTHING!

Wufei returned to the camp late that night. It had rained even more on his return, and he could feel the damp cloth of his tank top fluttering behind him. It made a quiet but strong clicking sound as the wind forced it against his back over and over again.

Although he had ignored the rain easily during the mission, the wind and falling temperature made him wish he had thought to bring some sort of water resistant device. His hour-long hike back to the tents had left him shivering violently for several minutes before finally subsiding to a gentle tremor that was centered in his frozen heart and radiated outwards through his bones. Each time a foot touched the ground, his head pounded once more, the pain escalating with each step. Although he was soaked, his thirst was immense. Once he had tried sucking on his tank top, but the taste of blood made him nauseous and he was unable to quench his thirst. The drizzle above him made him mad with the need to drink, but the canopy of deciduous leaves deterred the rain, making it fall to the ground in unpredictable buckets as though squirrels were trying to drown him with their acorn's hats as cups.

Finally he saw a light beyond. This would be the fire. Duo had insisted on it, despite its being conspicuous, because he said the lack of a fire would seem stranger if an Ozzy were to stumble upon them. Certainly that would put Wufei on guard, so he understood and backed down.

Dancing flames greeted him as he entered the clearing, two tents set up to look like a pair of unfinished books lying on a green carpet. The mud around the camp could almost be the coffee of the giant reader that had yet to return to their place. As he approached the fire, he noted his teammate's absence. No chatter from the camp. This did not bother him much, Duo was probably sleeping at this time of night.

Sitting next to the fire, he tried to get warm, but the wind stole the heat downwind, where the smoke was impossible to bear. The fire was now more smoke than flame, so Wufei reached to the kindling and put a few logs and sticks on to encourage the flame. Soon the fire was bright again, but still not warm enough. He shivered violently.

"Hey 'Fei," whispered a voice in his ear, startling him from his morbid thoughts of the incomplete mission that still raged in his mind at its failure. He glanced up at his strange companion, all catlike stealth until he decided to talk your ear off, and then be on guard, for he never shut up. Ever.

"Ah, didn't go well then? Oh well, t'least your alive, ne? You got back here in one piece. I remember one time Heero-kun came back late from a mission and he was wearing his mission. Yeah, that's right," he continued, purposefully mistaking the withering glare the Chinese pilot sent for disbelief. "He came back with the guy's guts all over him. God, _I_ couldn't even look. He's crazy, you know. Nothing like you."

He has no clue, thought Wufei, thinking about The Mission. I'm far more insane than Yuy.

"S'what I like about you ne way… you're so much more down to earth… you see…" And the words started to break apart. The words themselves made sense, but had no connection to one another. First the word "safe" which was something they never were, then a few minutes later there was "no one", which was who Wufei was. Then "the mission" which was the ego that had wanted the general destroyed, had almost shot him. Then, after an even longer pause of incomprehensible chatter, "sword" which he supposed was his clan's sword that he had left in the general's house in his haste to retreat. He was a coward for….

"Wufei?"

But he could not move. He tried to open his eyes, but they were sealed shut against so many tears. His arms could not move and his legs did not rise. Instead, the gibberish became concern, and the concern became silence. Then he was floating through the air, supported by two uneven bars.

And he knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Mission 3?

Author: sankekorafi

Pairings: 2+5? 5+M

Warnings: Depression, insanity?

A/N: I own nothing!

For days, all he knew was a few faint visions of a dimmed world. Beyond was a light world once, another few times a dark one. Always the words were clearer than sight, but only a few made sense each time.

The voice was too deep to belong to Meiran and too dark to be Maxwell's. Once it had yelled at him in worried fury, another time it was quiet and coaxing. Once there had been only sobs. Then he would return once more to a realm of colored dreams of flight. He felt lifted, staring at rocks down below. There was water and birds that flew below him, but the graceful flap of their wings was too slow to keep up with him and soon he was beyond the world all together.

Below him was a great expanse of night, tiny dots revealing that he was in space. The panel before him belonged to Wing Zero. And once again he felt the confusion. Who was his enemy?

Even the machine could not say.

"Wu?" a voice from above whispered, startling him.

His eyes opened and stared into pure cerulean water, the depth of which was beyond that of the most full ocean. Was this the end? Was he dying into these great blue circles? Falling into the sky or ocean, never to be seen again?

Was this what Zero meant? Why did it not know his enemy?

Then a cloth of skin separated him from the blue for a moment, and he saw the true meaning of the vision. In fact, he was no longer dreaming. This was….

Maxwell's eye?

"Hey man, you okay? You've been out for days now." The pilot sounded concerned, serious, and his face betrayed him. He was smiling, but red tear tracks could be seen like dried up rivers that had once sent water crashing down his cheeks. "Your fever broke yesterday. You're gunna be okay, right?"

Wufei sat up slowly, still watching Maxwell's face. His head spun on its axis, but he willed himself upright, not wanting to worry the boy from L2.

He didn't know why, but he wanted to comfort Maxwell, take his tears away somewhere the man-child would never find them again. And he found himself comforting the braided man without conscious thought. Just another deed without a meaning.

Those blue eyes continued to look at him, puzzled perhaps at his kindness, but Wufei was far away. He watched himself talk to Maxwell and observed as the young man hugged him in relief, for once not caring about the intimacy he routinely denied himself. Somewhere in his mind he was strapped in a chair, not knowing where The Mission was, forced to watch his life as shadows on the proverbial cave wall.

Then there was a beep from the corner of the tent and Maxwell stepped away, face red with tears and something else. "I'll just… get that… okay?" he asked nervously. Wufei nodded as G's form appeared on the screen where their missions were given, taken, and reported upon. He turned away as a conversation started up in English, the Chinese man listening brokenly, not really trying to understand what was being said. His name appeared a few times, and then Maxwell accepted the mission and G left, disappearing from the computer's mainframe entirely.

"Hey man, don't do anything stupid, okay? S'been nice workin' with ya, but I got someplace to be. Don't move too fast, you're still sick ya know…." The voice had more concern than Wufei was used to from the braided pilot, and it surprised his imprisoned being, which stared more intently still at the shadows.

He didn't turn around, not even as he was glomped by the braided pilot. He did not respond to the mumbled "bye" that the other said at the tent's flap.

And the dragon was once again alone in his den. He rapidly took stock of his situation. A vague hunger penetrated his thoughts, but was wrenched back to make room for the illness, which spoke to him in spins and whirls as his head throbbed and breath caught in his raw throat. Medicine had been left on the counter, and a note sat beside it. It stated that he should take a certain amount each certain number of hours and was signed Sally. Wufei wondered when Maxwell had had time to be on a first name basis with Dr. Po.

Then he smelled the object of his undoing: a sweet brothy smell came from outside of the tent. Using a hand on the tent for support, he willed himself up and stumbled out the flap, catching the last flip of the braid as it entered the forest proper, compelled onward by it's wearer. He walked, and then crawled to the pot on the fire. It bubbled at the top as Wufei took it off the cooking setup and used a spoon to taste the savory dish.

It was so good he finished half of it before considering his weakened condition. He proceeded to pass out, drunk on its flavor, beside the fire.


End file.
